When everything's broken but this
by 20BlueRoses
Summary: Ethan arrives to save Cal from Scott but neither of them could have predicted what happens next.
1. Chapter 1

_It's six months today since Cal died and I commemorated it this morning with a little cry. Yeah, seriously. So this feels like the perfect time to confess that I'm not even close to being over it. I tried. I banned myself from writing them for a long few months but it didn't help and so I started writing them again and that hasn't helped either. If I'm honest, I don't think I've even accepted it yet, Cal's alive so much of the time in my head. Maybe that sounds stupid considering he's a fictitious character but if anyone can understand, hopefully it's you guys._

 _Anyway, this is the result of my return to writing the brothers. Don't think it's my best but it's a completed two-shot so I may as well publish it. As always I'd appreciate any feedback, even if it's just letting me know I'm not alone in still being upset! Second part to follow in a few days._

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The first time he hears it, he ignores it, thinking the sound of heavy rain is playing tricks on his ears. But then it comes again, louder this time, or at least aligned with a pause in Alicia's monologue. And because he's a doctor, and a good one most days, he recognises it as a noise of pain. He stops so suddenly that Alicia nearly walks out from beneath the umbrella they're sharing.

"Did you hear that?" he asks.

She snuggles closer to him, afraid of getting rained on, and wrinkles her nose. "What?"

It's a thud this time, not a yelp, but it's enough for him to nod in certainty. "That. It sounds like someone's in trouble."

"Ethan," she moans, drawing out his name as if she knows what he's about to suggest.

His shoulders sag but he can't ignore it, not even when there's a tempting alternative on offer. "It's the _right_ thing to do," he says, almost pleadingly.

She rolls her eyes. "Oh come on then, _Mr Right_."

He shifts which hand is holding the umbrella so that he can wrap his arm around her. The gesture seems to appease her, for it's Alicia that steers them through the dark carpark. A rally of crashes and hisses and yells confirm the likelihood of a fight but it's the sight of two thrashing bodies only lit by a distant streetlamp that sends a shudder down Ethan's spine.

He turns to Alicia and plants his lips on her forehead. "Wait here," he says.

She accepts the umbrella from him but frowns. "I can help."

"We don't know what's going on. If it's safe and I need you, I'll call."

"Ethan, be careful."

He gives a grim nod. "Yeah."

The rain assaults him as soon as he leaves her, cold drops working their way beneath his collar and making him wonder whether he should have ignored his morals in favour of the warmth of two bodies beneath a duvet. But as he gets nearer the two men become more than just silhouettes. Both are slumped against the wall now, faces artificially lit and bloody but identifiable.

Ethan's stomach churns as he recognises his brother. Cal's chest is heaving, his face bruised and he's saturated from the heavy rain. Scott's in a similar state but Ethan worries little about that, other than the consequences for his brother having beat up an Ellison. He takes advantage of the break in fighting to assess how to intervene, but a flash of a blade prevents any further deliberation.

He throws himself at Scott, his brother's name expelled from his chest as he does so. His knees hit the concrete with a painful crunch, but he's rewarded by a clatter as the knife lands on the floor.

Scott neglects this weapon in favour of grabbing Ethan by the collar and heaving him to his feet. Ethan's eyes are on the knife and so the first he becomes aware of Scott's attack is when a fist collides with his cheek. He stumbles and a second punch hits him in the lip, sending warm blood trickling down his chin.

He squares his shoulders, bracing himself for a fight that he knows he can never win but his brother hooks his arm around Scott's neck and drags him away. Their eyes lock and Cal furiously shakes his head, nodding towards the distance, indicating for him to run.

Ethan frowns, trying to reply in his brother's silent code. But Scott sends the two of them crashing into a wall and Cal, winded, releases him, allowing Scott to shove him to the floor and deliver a firm boot to his abdomen. Cal grunts in pain and huffs as he tries to regain his breath.

Ethan hastens to his brother's side but Scott moves swiftly, retrieving the knife as he does so and then pinning him against the wall.

Ethan holds his hand up, innocent, and takes as deep a breath as he dares. "Scott, please, stop this fighting."

"Who are you of all people to tell me what to do?!" The spit as Scott talks splatters Ethan in the face. "My Dad is dead because of you."

"Your Dad was very unwell," Ethan says. He can feel his heart thudding against his chest but tries his best to keep his fear from his voice. He wonders whether Alicia has gone to get help. "I- the whole team… we did all we could, I can guarantee you that. I _am_ sorry. I'm sorry for your loss. But he died because he was poorly not because he was mistreated."

"No," Scott growls. "I _saw_ you. You wanted him to die, admit it."

"I tried to save him." Ethan chances a look towards his brother, still spluttering on the floor, but his concerns are swiftly redirected as he feels the sharp point of metal against his throat.

"You can't even look me in the eye as you lie to me," Scott says.

"I- I-," Ethan stammers, his gaze immediately returning to his assailant to refute the accusation. Behind the hate in Scott's eyes, Ethan can see that they are glassy, tears threatening to spill onto already wet cheeks.

"I thought Doctors were meant to save people." Scott pushes the blade further into Ethan's neck, smirking as he winces. "Or do you pick and choose? Only help the people you like?"

"No," Ethan says, embarrassed by the tremble in his voice. "Please, we can talk. I can- I can explain your dad's treatment, what happened-" He knows better now that to look away from Scott but can sense movement to his left and assumes Cal has finally made it back to his feet. "Just- just _please_ \- Scott, without the knife."

There's a pause during which Ethan holds the other man's gaze, widening his eyes in the hope it would let Scott see his soul, see the honesty in his proclamations he did all he could. The prick of the knife slackens and Ethan, feeling freer, gives an encouraging nod. "Thank you,"

Scott's features harden. Blood trickles from the cut on his brow. "Nah," he says. The knife returns, scratching Ethan's neck as it tilts his chin into an uncomfortable position. "You don't get away with it that easily. My Dad would want me to." He takes a deep breath. "You think I won't?"

"There's better ways-" Ethan pants. "Please. You can, um, complaints procedure…"

He scoffs in disgust. "Fuck's that gonna do?"

Ethan tries to move his head but the weapon follows every move.

"Nah, I can't-" Scott says, "I can't let you get away with this."

He moves swiftly and Ethan freezes, anticipating pain. Instead, all he feels is the absence of body weight as his brother drags Scott away from him. The knife remains tightly in Scott's outstretched hand as he shoves a weakened Cal against the wall.

"I told you to leave it," Scott hisses at Cal.

"And I told you I couldn't do that!"

Ethan's stomach churns as he sees how the knife is between the same fingers Scott is using to hold his brother still. Cal's eyes are on the blade and Ethan can see he's ghostly white beneath the blood and bruises.

"Please, Scott, stop this," Ethan begs. "If you want to hurt someone then hurt me. He's done nothing wrong."

"So you're admitting _you_ did?" Although Scott doesn't turn, Ethan can hear he's speaking through gritted teeth.

"No! No." He sighs deeply. "I just. Look, we can get you help. Bereavement counselling, or, or-"

"I don't need that bullshit. It's not going to bring my Dad back, is it?"

Cal shoves him. "Neither's this!"

"Cal," Ethan warns, desperate for his brother not to antagonise Scott while he's holding a weapon. He looks back to Scott. "Please, let's talk about this sensibly. No-one needs to get hurt."

"They already have!" Scott yells.

Somehow Ethan's prepared this time, so that when Scott lunges at him, he grabs his wrist and holds the knife as far away as he can. Cal backs him up but Scott's had more experience fighting and manages to manoeuvre the weapon between them, the blade flat against Ethan's chest.

Ethan can't look away from Scott's broken expression as it flits between grief and anger and indecision. In his peripheral vision, he can see Cal's hands pulling at Scott's shoulders and arms and he can imagine the strain on his brother's face as he tries. He wants to tell Cal it's okay, that none of this is his fault, but he can't find the words, his jaw locked on an apology he has no reason to give.

Then suddenly another pair of hands joins Cal's clawing at Scott. His plans for a future with Alicia rejuvenates him and verbalises the plea that almost died on his lips.

"Scott, please, don't do this," he begs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Too late," Scott grunts.

Ethan can feel the blade twist towards his chest.

"Scott, fuck, get off him." Cal's words come as a wheeze, unusually feeble.

"Ethan!" A whimper.

"Alicia, it's okay."

More hands. A stab of something that could be an elbow but could equally be a knife. Gasping. Spluttering. A trodden on foot and a stumble against the wall. A glint of a blade, away from his chest but closer to his face. A yell. A tussle. Four bodies, overbalancing, landing in a puddle. Ethan hits the ground face first and there's pain but not substantial enough to be from a knife.

One lens of his glasses is smashed and he hastily removes them so the shards can't cause any damage. It takes his vision a few seconds to readjust. He senses, rather than sees, Cal lunge for Scott's ankle and get kicked to the side. He's about to go to examine his brother when a frightened whimper turns his blood to ice. He blinks furiously. A crimson stain is spreading across his girlfriend's chest.

"Alicia!" He crawls to her side and presses firmly on the wound. "Cal." His voice has been stolen, no more than a whisper. "Cal."

Cal fingers something on the floor. "The knife," he says, shock turning his statement into a question.

"I- I know!" Ethan stammers. Everything around him blurs until all he can see is his own hands, pooling with Alicia's blood. "Cal. Help."

Cal proceeds to shrug out of his saturated uniform hoodie and stuff it beneath Ethan's hands, adding pressure to Alicia's chest. It's helpful but it's not what Ethan meant, he wanted his brother to get a trolley and a whole team of doctors.

"Eth- an," Alicia sobs.

The helplessness in her voice spurs him and he throws a desperate look in his brother's direction. "Go get help."

"I'll take over. You go."

"No!" Ethan snaps. There's less than a second before he realises how ridiculous it is for to still be competing over Alicia while she's suffering so badly, but luckily Cal seems to have come to the same conclusion. He watches as his brother staggers to his feet and falls into a run.

Ethan strokes Alicia's sodden hair from her forehead, inadvertently mixing a streak of her own blood with the rain water. "Everything's going to be okay. I promise."

"Hurts-"

"I'll get you some pain relief as soon as I can."

"Am- Am I going to die?"

"No!" Ethan says but there's a lump in his throat. "You're going to be fine. It's just a scratch," he tells her. "It's okay."

"You're… bad liar."

"I'm not going to let you die," he says. "I'm here to look after you. Now and always."

She manages a watery smile. "Yeah?"

"Yes. I would do anything for you." He racks his brain for things to tell her but it's hard to summon words when all he can think of is how the colour is fading from her cheeks and her eyelashes keep fluttering and too much blood has oozed from the wound. "We can… we can go on holiday! Anywhere you like."

She takes a rasping breath. "Hot?"

"Perhaps the Caribbean," he suggests, desperate to keep her awake. "A nice hotel, gorgeous beaches, um…" The picture is rapidly fading, back to the cold, dark, rainy night they are trapped in.

"Sounds… good…" Alicia's voice is barely a whisper.

"Yeah. So just keep thinking of that holiday and before you know it we'll be there in the sun, just the two of us."

There's a silence and Ethan watches intently as his girlfriend's eyes close. "Alicia," he says. He taps her cheek slightly. "Alicia!"

It looks like it takes a great effort but she manages to peer up at him from waterlogged lashes. Her face crumples. "I'm scared."

"I know," he whispers, silently adding his consensus. "And I know it's hard, but you need to stay awake, okay?"

She gives her answer with her eyes and Ethan, though relieved to see them open, is pained to see the desperation within them.

Ethan hears his name and over his shoulder he can see a cluster of his colleagues arriving. There's a cacophony of voices as medical terminology mingles with shock but he's never been gladder to be embroiled in noise.

Alicia cries as she's lifted onto the trolley and it's the worst sound Ethan's ever heard. He follows as they speed back to the hospital, barely managing to keep up but at the same time wishing they were going faster. At the entrance, Ethan notices his brother peel away from Charlie's concerned grip to join their sprint down the corridor. Cal squeezes his shoulder but Ethan shrugs him off to crash through the doors to Resus at the same time as the trolley.

"She's unconscious, she's unresponsive to pain. Let's give her some oxygen please, quickly."

Ethan leaps to her bedside, unhooking the oxygen mask and stretching it over her face. He attaches her to the monitor and his hands move towards the wound, yearning to take charge of her treatment.

Connie's doesn't even acknowledge him other than to give her command. "Stand away."

Ethan's stomach clenches. "I need to help."

"You can stay for Alicia, but I'm not letting you treat her."

"Please-"

"Ethan, you've been drinking," Cal says, quietly. "Let me."

Connie turns her head this time but only to give Cal's bloody face a look of disgust. "Dr Knight, you're in no fit state either." She increases the number of swaps putting pressure on Alicia's chest. "Actually, you need to get checked over. Go with Charlie, please."

"I'm fine," Cal says, through gritted teeth.

Ethan glances at his brother. One hand is flat against his stomach and he's stooped over, clearly in pain. He has a nasty gash on his cheek and numerous cuts and bruises acquired before he had intervened. The last thing Ethan thinks he could cope with is his brother collapsing as well. "Caleb, go," he says.

Cal sags, defeated. He nods but limps towards the trolley. He takes Alicia's hand in his and uses his other hand to lightly stroke the side of her face. Ethan watches as her eyelids flicker in response, regaining consciousness to find Cal by her side.

"You'll be okay, beautiful," he tells her. "I'll see you soon."

Cal presses his lips against the back of her hand and gently lays it back on the mattress. He steps back, steering Ethan by the shoulders to take his place next to Alicia. The brothers exchange a look and Ethan can clearly read the worry in Cal's eyes. It pains him to see; Alicia was his to worry about now, not Cal's. The jealousy is quickly replaced by guilt and then, as he entwines his fingers with Alicia's, fear. It doesn't matter who has Alicia's heart, only that it remains beating.

"Cap refill is delayed," someone says suddenly.

"Mm." Connie gives a sigh of frustration. "Yeah. She's had a massive pneumothorax. The knife must have perforated the lung."

Ethan feels a rush of nausea. His eyes shoot to Connie expectantly. "She needs a thoracostomy."

"I know that, thank you," his colleague snaps. "Someone get me a scalpel and 20ml of 1% lignocaine."

Ethan keeps one hand tightly in Alicia's but uses his other to gently stroke her hair. "You're going to be okay. Everything's going to be okay."

He watches as Connie creates a cut between Alicia's ribs. Blood spills from her side and he knows that's normal but he still can't stop the feeling that his legs are about to give way. He clings onto Alicia's hand and murmurs reassurances, feeling useless as she whimpers when Connie inserts the tube.

His heart is hammering loud in his ears. He holds his breath. Then the drain bubbles and his colleague swears in frustration and Ethan wonders if he's about to faint. He doesn't need to check the colour of the drain to tell that Alicia's condition has taken a turn for the worse. Her skin pales and she stops gasping and her eyes roll back in her head. Ethan's eyes shoot to the monitor. He doesn't believe what he sees so grabs her wrists and presses hard.

"I can't feel a pulse," he splutters.

"She's arrested!"

"I'm going to intubate."

Ethan freezes. His hands are still on Alicia but hand-holding is past the point of being useful and he knows he's creating more of a hindrance than a help. He's shaking so badly that his body struggles to co-operate as he moves to give Elle enough space to feed the tube down Alicia's windpipe.

"Okay, I need to get to the bleed," Connie states. "I'm going to do a clamshell thoracotomy."

"A- a- clamshell?" he stutters uselessly. His nausea returns at the thought of his girlfriend being sliced open. He gulps down the bile and tries to ignore the sour taste that lingers in his mouth.

"It's her only chance."

Ethan detects a wobble in Connie's voice that does nothing to reassure him. "No, no, it can't be."

"Get me the open chest kit," Connie orders the team. "Ethan, I want you away from the bed, okay. Alicia needs my sole attention or else this is not going to work."

Ethan's surprised by the whimper that falls from his lips. He doesn't want to leave her but doesn't want to diminish Alicia's chances by putting his own needs first. He squeezes her hand one final time and grazes her forehead with his lips. Her skin tastes of salt.

Running a hand through his rain-damp hair, he steps backwards from the bed, not wanting to turn and risk looking elsewhere even for a few seconds. He feels sick. He feels as if he's about to fall to the floor. Suddenly, he regrets sending his brother away. Cal would hold him upright, if nothing else.

He'd thought nothing would be worse than seeing Alicia writhing in pain but now he knows he was wrong. Her body is prone, covered in blood and her beautiful face tainted by a ventilation tube. The machines continue to wail. He feels like he's been punched in the stomach.

Connie exposes Alicia's skin and creates a deep laceration across her chest. Alicia's thoracic cavity is flooded with blood and Ethan can barely distinguish the organs. Each swab is immediately soaked. A drop of blood spills from the table and splatters onto the floor. He can hear the voices of his colleagues but they're talking over each other and their words sounds slurred and nonsensical.

And then, something he can understand coming from his boss's mouth.

"She's lost too much blood."

Everything is in slow motion. There's more swabs, then discarded swabs, then a high pitched sob from somewhere behind him.

Connie lets out a shaky breath. "I'm going to call it."

"No!" The word slips from his mouth. "No! No, please."

"I'm sorry," Connie says. Her voice cracks and it sounds as if she means it but it's not enough.

"There must be something. A- a-" He looks around the room, desperate for one of his colleagues to suggest a miracle cure. Robyn is crying. His own eyes prickle but he refuses to let the tears fall because that would mean Alicia was dead. "Keep trying." He hastens to Connie's side. "You can save her, I know you can."

The room is silent. Connie angles her head back and Ethan can see her eyes are damp as well.

"You- you can't stop," he says. It sounds like a question.

"I'm sorry, Ethan. There's nothing else we can do for her." Connie's fingers brush a stray hair from Alicia's forehead. She checks the clock. "Time of death, twenty thirty-two." She peels her gloves off and throws them into the bin. "Thank you everyone, I know this has been difficult. I'll be in my office if anyone needs me."

Ethan remains in the same spot long after Connie has left. In the corner of his vision he can see Robyn and Louise hugging each other. Elle places a sheet across Alicia's blooded chest and starts to wipe mascara stains from her cheeks. Ethan can't look at her. He can't see the signs of death on the girl he loves. His strength returns in a rush and he storms out of Resus, making it as far as the nurse's station before his legs give way.

He clings to the desk to keep himself upright. His head is spinning. His plans for the night with Alicia back at his flat feel a lifetime ago. His breaths fall in heavy gasps. He wonders if he's ill himself.

He manages to heave himself to a more comfortable position, leaning forward onto the desk. The new angle alerts him to the occupant of the cubicle opposite, through the small gap where the curtain hasn't been pulled properly. Cal is shirtless and small and crying into his arm. He's obviously heard the news. Ethan feels a twinge of brotherly duty. He knows he should go to Cal and comfort him but he's not ready to push his own grief to the side to ease someone else's. He doesn't even know if it's possible.

Instead, he pushes himself away from the desk and stumbles towards Connie's office. He doesn't wait to knock and it's just as well, for the moment he gets there, the nausea finally defeats him and he vomits noisily into her bin.

When it's safe to do so, he wipes the back of his hand in front of his mouth and sinks into a chair, embarrassed despite his exhaustion. "I- I'm-"

"There's no need to apologise," she says softly.

Ethan looks up. Connie's eyes are glazed and there's a smudge of blood across her cheek. He nods, gratefully and wonders if she'll be so lenient if there's a second bout of sickness.

"Ethan, I need you to know, I did all I could."

Ethan ignores her comment. It's not that he disbelieves her exactly, but he can't help feeling that something could have been done differently. His vision starts to swim and he blinks furiously.

"I want to tell her parents," he says.

Connie's fingers trace her collarbone and she doesn't look at him as she speaks. "As Clinical Lead, it should be me."

He gulps. He knows it doesn't make sense but he can't help thinking it would be better coming from him, as if their knowledge on how much he loved their daughter could somehow ease their pain. "I- I've met them before," he says lamely.

"It's not a good idea." She pauses. "I'm going to phone them next and I'd rather not do so with an audience. Go and say your goodbyes, Ethan, and then go home. You can take a few days off. Cal too."

He's not ready to say goodbye to Alicia, but with nowhere else to go, he heads to Cal's cubicle. His brother has a blanket draped around his shoulders and his face has been cleaned up making it look less alarming but exposing the bruises. Charlie is placing the final steri-strip on the cut on his cheek. Cal's eyes are puffy and the tip of his nose is pink.

"You okay?" Cal asks. His voice sounds all wrong.

Ethan perches on the foot end of the bed but doesn't reply. A simple no wouldn't do his feelings justice. They're silent except for Cal's ragged breathing and frequent sniffs.

Charlie clears his throat. "Can I take a look at that face?"

Ethan manages a shrug. He doesn't want Charlie to treat him, a few cuts and bruises are nothing compared to what happened to Alicia, but it would take more energy that he has to decline. The cuts to his face sting as Charlie dabs at them with antiseptic but the pain is incomparable to the ache in his chest.

Cal sits as still as him as Charlie works and no-one ventures a word until the nurse has finished and announces he's driving them both home.

Ethan feels as if he's hit with the news all over again. "I can't leave her," he whispers.

Cal shuffles closer and puts a hand on Ethan's back. "She won't know."

"And that's meant to help?"

Ethan feels his brother's hand flinch but to Cal's credit, he doesn't remove it completely. "I just meant…" He sighs. "Whatever. What do you want to do?"

Ethan stares at his lap. "Mrs Beauchamp told me to say goodbye."

There's a long pause before Cal speaks. "Okay," he says quietly. "If that's what you want."

Ethan feels his head moving from side to side.

"Okay," Cal repeats.

Ethan opens his mouth to tell his brother he doesn't want anything except to be able to go back in time and stop everything from going wrong, but a salty tear trickles into his mouth. He'd been thinking he'd been holding himself together well, vomiting aside, and so he automatically reaches to wipe the tear away.

The movement draws Cal's attention. He grabs Ethan's chin and turns his head to face him. As their eyes lock, Ethan finally allows himself to let go. Helpless tears cascade down his cheeks and his shoulders quiver. It's frightening how he can't seem to stop.

"We're going home," Cal says firmly. "Everything else can wait."


	2. Chapter 2

Ahh you guys are amazing. I honestly wasn't expecting to get that many reviews so thank you all so much!

 **Guest** \- Thank you so much but I'm sorry to make you cry. Hopefully I won't do so again. No more deaths this chapter, I promise.

 **InfinityAndOne** \- Haha yes, will be in my eighties still getting that gut wrenching feeling every time I remember. I wish this happened instead too. Anyone but Cal or Ethan! I don't even feel guilty for killing Alicia, is that bad? Thank you so much for your kind comments about the last chapter.

 **casslourocks** \- Thank you so much for your review. I really do appreciate you commenting on the action sequence as I found that so hard to write, so I'm glad it was worth the many edits. Honestly, the first version was not fit to be read by anyone but myself! Hope you enjoy the conclusion.

 **CBloom2** \- Yes, I saw that picture too and let out a completely uncharacteristic squeal that was quickly followed up by feeling sad all over again. Love that they're still friends though. Thank you for your review, I'm so pleased you enjoyed it.

 **Tato Potato** \- Thank you for reviewing, I'm glad that I got you hooked and you enjoyed reading it. Totally agree about Cal. I want to watch Cal and Ethan forever!

 **casualtyfics111** \- Thank you so much for your kind comments, I'm really pleased you thought the reaction worked well as that was the bit I was most worried about. Hope you enjoy this final part.

 **Bonnie Sveen Fan** \- Yep, no brother deaths in my fics (well, there was the one, but we'll ignore that haha). Thank you so much for your review, I'm glad you liked it, and if you liked the support in the last chapter there is more to come.

So, part 2 of 2. Please let me know what you think. I have a million more ideas buzzing round in my head but not sure which, if any, will form themselves into a fic. Hope you enjoy! x

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If Cal's honest with himself, his decision to go home was only partly to rescue Ethan from a very public breakdown. In the hospital his chest had felt tight, as if he could only manage small breaths, and the thought of Alicia lying dead just a few rooms away made it even harder to breathe. His whole body ached with the scope of what had happened and he wanted nothing more than to disappear into a universe where his friend hadn't been murdered in front of him.

But now he's back in their flat, Cal wishes he hadn't been so hasty to usher Charlie out of the door. He's cold to the bone from the dark, rainy night, and yet it's not his temperature that causes him to shiver, but the sight of his brother.

Ethan's perched on the edge of the sofa and hasn't uttered a word since they got home. The coffee Cal made him remains untouched and the only movement is an occasional dab of a tissue to his nose. His brother looks broken, like someone has taken all the pieces of Ethan and put them back together in the wrong order.

Cal wishes they could wipe their memories clean.

Instead, he clears his throat and edges one step closer to the surrogate version of his brother.

"Alright if I grab the first shower?" Cal asks. He waits, longing for a sarcastic reply about how he never usually asks permission.

Ethan's head moves barely enough to constitute a nod but enough for Cal to make his escape.

Once the bathroom door is locked behind him, Cal leans on it, grateful for something to steady his jelly-like legs. An anguished sobs escapes and he clamps his hand to his mouth, desperate for Ethan not to hear. He doubles over, opens his mouth as wide as he can and unleashes a silent scream. His head is pounding. He wishes he could stop thinking about it but scenes from the day are on loop, playing over and over in his brain. His own voice echoes around his head: _What you gonna do, attack him?_ He'd thrown the first punch and from then on everything had gone wrong.

He looks at himself in the bathroom mirror. The cut on his cheek is alarming but he stares questioningly into his own eyes instead, trying to read his own soul, whether it's that of a good person, or a bad. He can't look at himself for long and scrunches his eyes shut, taking several deep breaths.

His body aches as he eases his top over his head. There's already a deep purple bruise across his abdomen from where Scott had kicked him. He fingers the area, testing how hard he can bear his fingers to press.

He turns the shower up to scorching and shivers as he stands naked, waiting for it to reach peak temperature before getting in. The water stings as it hits his skin. His arms remain limp by his side as he lets the water encase him, not bothering to wash or even prevent the water from running into his eyes. His shoulders shake as he starts to sob.

When he feels as confident as he can that he's pulled himself back together, he gets out the shower and towels himself dry. Even the act of getting dressed feels a huge effort. He hopes he's been gone long enough for a miracle to have happened with Ethan because if it hasn't, he doesn't have a clue how to help.

But back in the lounge, his brother remains prone, exactly where he'd left him.

"You need to get out of those wet clothes, mate," Cal says by way of greeting.

He's not surprised when Ethan ignores him. It's frustrating really. He's hurting too, yet he's still managing to sustain his end of a conversation.

"Ethan." There's an edge to his voice that he doesn't bother to disguise.

Ethan tilts his head and Cal can see the thoughts rippling across his forehead as he frowns.

"I- I don't _get_ it," Ethan finally mumbles.

"Don't get what?"

"Why were you fighting with Scott?" The man's name is almost spat from Ethan's lips.

Cal runs a hand over his head groaning. "Doesn't matter."

"How can you say that?"

"Because it doesn't."

"Cal, Alicia's… _dead_."

His little brother's voice breaks on the last syllable and Cal feels a lump stick in his throat. His eyes sting and he stares at his lap, willing himself not to cry.

Ethan inhales noisily, trying to steady himself. "I need to know what happened."

"You were there," Cal says. "You know."

"Before then."

"Ethan, stop trying to torture yourself. It won't change what happened."

Ethan's shoulders tense. "You're missing my point."

"I'm not."

"Well, deliberately ignoring it, then."

"Why are you being difficult?"

"Difficult? Caleb, don't you care?" Ethan finally moves from the sofa but looks unsteady on his feet as he turns to glare at Cal. "My girlfriend just died. That- _that's_ difficult. I'm just trying to understand why everything went wrong."

"Because Scott Ellison killed her," Cal says. As soon as he says it he wishes he hadn't for Ethan seems to crumble. He reaches out to steady him but Ethan steps backwards and somehow manages to stay upright by himself. Cal, at a loss of how else to proceed, continues with his sentence. "You need to ask _him_ what he was doing with a knife!"

"A knife that he pulled on you."

"Meaning?"

Ethan turns his head to the side and Cal can see his eyes are glassy. "She got hurt during your fight, Cal."

His brother's words wind him and it takes a few moments of guilt-filled flashbacks before he can speak. "You think it was my fault?"

Ethan's lips flap. He runs a hand beneath his nose. "I- I don't know."

"Ethan, come on!" His voice betrays him, exposing his own fears that it might be true. "Ethan, I'm your brother!"

Ethan shuts his eyes and a tear trickles down both cheeks. When he looks up again there's a pleading look in his eyes and Cal finally understands. They must be more similar than they thought because Ethan's as desperate as he is to not shoulder the blame. But Cal's aching from the beating he got trying to protect him and has had enough of being scapegoated, saddled with the label of the bad brother.

"Still want to know why I was fighting?" he asks, not waiting for a response. "To protect _you_ , little brother. Because _you_ screwed up today and Scott was out for revenge." He sees Ethan pale but doesn't stop. "That knife was meant for you, so don't even think about pointing the finger at me."

Ethan head dips but it's not a nod, not quite. "You antagonised him." It sounds like a question. "I could have- could have talked to him. Made him understand that I did all I could to help his dad."

"Get in the real world, Ethan. You pissed off an Ellison, it was never going to be civil."

Ethan's head drops again so his chin is on his chest. His shoulders slump. He looks like all life has been dragged out of him and Cal realises he's gone too far.

"Ethan?" he says, cautiously.

"I know," he whispers. "It was my fault. Scott was after me."

"Listen. I didn't mean it. There's only one man to blame for this and it's neither you nor me."

He reaches out to squeeze his brother's shoulder but Ethan rotates out of his grip.

"And what's worse," Ethan continues, in an alien harsh tone, "I lead Alicia to him."

Cal doesn't know how to reply and he spends so long thinking that the pause becomes stagnant and his brother seems to grow even smaller. Ethan's gaze flickers towards his. Even though their eyes only met for a split second, the grief he saw on his brother's face make his own eyes prickle with tears.

"Don't follow me," Ethan says. He moves heavily towards his room.

Cal reacts slowly, his mind and body both exhausted from the day, but he does the opposite of what Ethan instructed and follows him down the corridor. "Ethan, don't-" he says, but it's too late for his brother's bedroom door clicks shut. Cal pushes it but there's a weight the other side and a firmer push confirms that Ethan is leaning against it.

"-don't shut me out," Cal whispers the final part of his sentence. His hand falls upon the wooden slats of Ethan's door but he doesn't bother pushing it, knowing it's futile. Instead, he sighs deeply and tries again. "Ethan, we shouldn't be alone," he calls.

There's no reply. Cal's not surprised but his mind is made up. He ventures to his own room only long enough to grab a half-drank bottle of whiskey and his pillow and then returns to the corridor. The sound of muffled sobbing coming from his little brother's room sends a pain right through his chest.

He drops his pillow on the floor and slides down the wall until he lands on top of it. "I'll stay here then," he says to Ethan's closed bedroom door.

Cal brings the whiskey bottle to his mouth and takes a long swig. It tastes disgusting. He can't recall when it was first opened and wonders if it was one of the many bottles he and Alicia shared in his room. He shakes his head, trying to rid the thought that Alicia was never going to drink spirits straight from a bottle again. He doesn't understand how it's possible for someone so vibrant to be stolen so quickly. The world feels quieter. Emptier.

He pretended to Ethan that he'd stopped caring for Alicia, but that isn't the truth; he just cares for his brother more. He never admits it because Ethan would suppose he was trying to soften him up after doing something wrong, but he cares, a lot. And it's because of that, that the silence from Ethan's room doesn't reassure him. He knows better than to assume just because he can't hear the tears they aren't happening. And he knows first-hand that the kind of guilt Ethan is feeling doesn't just vanish because you don't want your brother to hear.

Cal's thumb circles the rim of the whiskey bottle. The words of their argument echo round his mind and the only reason he doesn't try to block them out is because it's fractionally better than his alternative memories of Alicia bleeding out in the rain. He takes another gulp of alcohol. It burns his throat and he splutters, bringing the ever-present tears closer to the surface. Ethan's accusations weren't entirely inaccurate. He wasn't completely blameless in this. He squeezes his eyes shut wishing he hadn't succumbed to the need to play superhero, that he'd reported Scott's threats the police, or at least snuck through the back door of the pub that barmaid lead him through once and whisked Ethan and Alicia to safety.

He feels dampness on his cheeks and digs his fingers into his eyes, trying to wipe them away. It hurts his blackened eye and besides there are suddenly too many tears to stem. He brings his knees to his chest and buries his head, swaying as he sobs. His lungs feel like they are about to burst. It's not a conscious move, but his arm whips out from his huddled body and grabs the whiskey bottle, chucking it across the corridor. It smashes noisily against the wall. Liquid spills to the floor. The destruction makes him feel worse, if anything.

A familiar clearing of a throat alerts him. The sound of breaking glass must have awoken the sense of responsibility within his brother.

Cal looks up. Ethan's in the doorway, eyes red, cheeks blotchy and looking like he's seven years old again. He's finally changed out of his wet clothes into a pair of pyjama bottoms and a woollen jumper that would look more at home on a sheep. The complete mismatch would usually send a twitch of amusements to Cal's lips but it's not funny for once, not when his head's pounding and his little brother looks like his world has fallen apart.

"You're right," Ethan says. His voice is hoarse from crying. "I can't leave you on your own. Not if you're going to smash stuff."

Cal appreciates the clumsy attempt at humour but he can't work his mouth into a smile, no matter how small. He accepts Ethan's outstretched hand and allows his brother to heave him to his feet. Ethan's chin is wobbling and he looks a mess.

"Your lip's bleeding again," Cal tells him.

The normality of the comment seems to bring them to their senses and it's a mutual barrage of arms as they clutch at each other, finally seeking some comfort in the form of a hug. Cal has one hand at the base of Ethan's neck and the other so tightly around Ethan's waist that he moves with each of his brother's trembles. Ethan's face is buried against his shoulder and Cal can feel Ethan fisting the material of his hoodie.

After minutes of ragged breaths, spluttering sobs and desperate hands, Cal feels his brother grow heavy in his arms.

He manoeuvres so he can examine Ethan's appearance. His brother's face is lined with exhaustion and yet he still manages to look inexplicably young. "Come on," he says, heavily supporting Ethan as they walk back into his room. They sit together on the edge of the bed. "You really don't look good, bro."

"Tired," Ethan whispers.

"Get some sleep?"

Ethan shakes his head and Cal understands; he couldn't sleep if he tried.

"At least lie down then. Under the covers. You're still cold." He manhandles Ethan until his brother is curled on his side facing him. "Okay?"

Ethan lifts the duvet and Cal slides beneath it. They haven't shared since they were kids but he has no intention of leaving his brother. Besides, he doesn't want to be alone with his thoughts either.

An isolated tear trickles down Ethan's cheek. "We were going to be happy," he says, his voice fractured and small.

"I know," Cal says.

"It's not fair. Cal, why _her_?"

Cal stares at him, at a loss. "Life's… shit." He realises how insignificant that sounds but thankfully Ethan's too upset to take offence.

"I just- I just can't bear the thought of never seeing her again." Ethan's eyelashes are clogged with tears and as he blinks his cheeks grow damp. "We wasted so much time. We could have been together for months by now."

"But I got in the way," Cal says, bitterly. His head aches with sadness for his brother never getting the chance to be with the girl he loves and yet he can't help feeling angry that Ethan dismissed his own relationship as a waste of time. He'd loved Alicia too, in his own way.

Ethan stiffens. "I didn't mean-"

"It's okay."

"She was happy though, I think," Ethan says. "With you." He dabs at his eyes with the cuff of his jumper but it does little to improve the dampness of his cheeks. "I- I suppose, that's the important thing? That she was happy."

"We had fun," he confirms, feeling guilty as Ethan squirms, clearly misinterpreting the comment to be of his usual lurid standard. "But it was you she wanted. I could tell."

Ethan's breath is expelled in a rush. "I don't know if that makes it better or worse."

"Sorry," Cal says. His body feels so empty, so heavy. "You know I'm not good at this."

"You're doing better than you think."

Cal manages a small smile at that, but it feels all wrong. He reaches for Ethan's hand under the duvet and their fingers fiercely lock together.

"We, um, we need to talk to the police," Ethan says.

Cal feels sick at the thought of having to relay every tragic detail but he knows they owe it to Alicia to get Scott put behind bars. "Yeah, but not today."

"I- I think we should."

"Ethan, I _can't_." He frowns furiously, trying to dispel the build-up of tears in the corner of his eye. "Please. Look, we're both a bit beaten up, it's late, a lot's happened. We'll do it tomorrow when we're feeling better."

His brother gives him a knowing look. "And when tomorrow comes and it still feels like this?"

"I won't back out," Cal tells him. He hopes he sounds more convincing that he feels. "We've got each other. We'll get each other through it, yeah?"

Ethan gives a half-hearted nod and Cal can tell if he had the energy he'd be arguing that they were making the wrong decision. Instead, silence falls and Cal rests his heavy head on the pillow, watching as his little brother fights with himself. He can feel his eyes flickering shut and longs for the oblivion of sleep.

"We nearly didn't," Ethan says out of nowhere.

Cal blinks. "Hmm?"

"You said we've got each other. We nearly didn't have," Ethan repeats.

Cal's wide awake again now and suddenly feels shivery with cold.

"It could have been you that- that died," Ethan says. He sounds terrified. "You kept dragging him off me. He could have stabbed you."

"Yeah, well, it could have been you. When I saw that knife at your throat…" Cal's eyes cloud at the thought. "Ethan, you know I'd be a mess without you. I couldn't have that."

"I- I don't know what I'd do if it had been you."

"You'd get through it. You're tougher than you think."

Ethan shakes his head. "No."

"It didn't happen," Cal tells him. "We're both still here."

The inevitable thought hangs in the air, the tragedy of the person who didn't make it. A person they both loved, but not as much as each other.

Cal lays a hand on the side of Ethan's head and gently wipes a tear out of the corner of his eye with his thumb. "It's you and me, bro."

"Always."


End file.
